


Switching Off

by red_b_rackham



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bets, Domestic Avengers, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Pranks, Team Dynamics, Team Trolling, Tony Being Tony, team fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:51:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_b_rackham/pseuds/red_b_rackham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve bets Tony that he can't go 24 hours without using technology (including JARVIS). Tony thinks it's going to be a cake walk... until he's just a couple hours into the bet. And knowing certain members of his so-called team are conspiring for him to lose the bet doesn't help anything. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switching Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkspire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkspire/gifts).



> [inkspire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inkspire/) and I started this fic together, doing timed sessions and swapping the fic back and forth. Once we had a rough draft, I took it over and fleshed it out. Thanks to Inky for writing the first draft with me!
> 
> And thank you to the lovely people at the Beta Branch for the edits and feedback! <3

In the morning, Tony came in to the kitchen and pressed a variety of buttons on the number of machines scattered about the counters. The coffee machine, the blender, the microwave. While the machines were churning, whirring, and beeping respectively, he checked his phone, scrolling across the display with his thumb idly. Breakfast made, he settled at the counter and proceeded to bring up a large holographic screen before him and scrolled through a variety of news feeds.  
  
From the couch in the adjacent open area living room, Steve watched with an amused smile playing at his lips. Tony was completely oblivious until Steve finally spoke.  
  
“You couldn’t go a single day without all this stuff, could you?” the captain mused.  
  
“Hmm?” Tony didn’t glance away from the screens as he sipped his smoothie.  
  
“All day, every day, you spend it with something electronic one way or another.”  
  
“Something wrong with that, old man?”  
  
“It’s just funny to me.”  
  
“It’s convenient, is what it is. It just took me five minutes to make a balanced breakfast. How long did it take you to do the same in the old days? An hour? Two?”  
  
Steve rolled his eyes, still smiling.  
  
“You probably had to go pick the coffee beans yourself.”  
  
“Oh, give it rest.”  
  
“Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.”  
  
Steve folded the newspaper in his lap (the one made of actual paper, not the big blue and white, blinking and moving thing hovering in front of Tony that he referred to as a “newspaper”).  
  
“I only brought it up because I don’t think you could go a whole day without any tech,” said Steve.  
  
Tony swiped his “newspaper” to the side with an irritated flick of his hand. “I could if I wanted to. But why would I want to?”  
  
“ _I’m_ saying you can’t.”  
  
Tony sniffed. “I could.”  
  
Steve stood and walked into the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Then prove it. Let’s make a bet.”  
  
Tony swivelled in his chair. “What are the stakes?”  
  
“If you can go 24 hours without using any tech, I’ll let you take my shield for all the diagnostics you want. And a few throws, too.”  
  
Tony's eyes lit up. “A day. You have to loan it to me for a day. 24 hours, it's only fair.” He spread his hands.  
  
Steve huffed. “Fine. Barring any calls to assemble, a full day.”  
  
“And in the unlikely scenario where I crack? What do you get?”  
  
Steve tilted his head for a brief moment, then smiled, satisfied. “You have to cut out the old man jokes. All of them.”  
  
Tony raised both eyebrows. “So either way, you gain something from this. I make it the whole day, you prove a point, and if I don't, you get to gloat _and_ I can't make references to your true age.”  
  
“But if you win, you get a shiny new toy to play with.”  
  
The chance to have free reign with Cap's shield? Way too good to pass up. “Deal.”  
  
Steve shook his extended hand, then held on for an extra moment, smirk on his lips. “You realize this includes Jarvis, right?”  
  
Tony froze, then dropped Steve's hand with a glare. “What, I can't even use my assisted living device now? That's low, Rogers.” He grumbled into his smoothie.  
  
Steve just laughed.

 

~

  
  
At first, it wasn’t terribly difficult, Tony decided. Sure, Steve told the rest of the team and now they were taking turns keeping an annoyingly close eye on him. Sure, his fingers felt itchy in the first hour, but he could ignore it. He could. He was Tony Stark, and he could do this.  
  
For the first few hours, he stayed in his lab and tinkered with plain ol’ tools on one his cars. He liked working with his hands, regardless of whether electronics were involved or not. Clint was situated comfortably on one of the work benches nearby reading a book, and Tony largely ignored him.  
  
More than a few times, Tony stopped himself from calling out to Jarvis to check something for him, to run some diagnostics, and more. The AI’s name would bubble up in his throat and just in time, he would remember the bet – and imagine himself _throwing the shield_ – and press his lips together.  
  
It was 24 hours. It wasn’t a big deal.

  
  
~

  
  
Except it totally was and he absolutely refused to admit it to anyone.  
  
Being the great billionaire genius that was Tony Stark meant that every small, medium, and large appliance in his home was tricked out and modified to such a degree that the team agreed it counted as tech (so even though he had a kettle and a french press, tea and coffee boiled on his fancy stove apparently counted – they’d voted, and Tony had lost that argument).  
  
Nearly everything included a tech interface so Jarvis could access the appliances and devices, and Tony could have every option known to man adjustable to the smallest degree. Which was something that gave him plenty of entertainment as he tweaked and modified and enjoyed the convenience of in the past, but was something he was currently regretting in light of the bet’s rules.  
  
Working on the car was great, for a while. But the longer he worked on it, the more things he found he needed Jarvis for. He wanted to see all the parts laid out, he wanted Jarvis to build him a wireframe. He wanted to Google a query or two, maybe clarify something. He tried casually asking Barton, only to find Natasha there on the bench instead. She quirked an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Don’t suppose you know anything about Mustang carburetors?” he tried. When she didn’t answer immediately, he added hastily, “You don’t count as tech – I can ask _you_.”  
  
“I don’t,” Natasha admitted with a slight smile. “But I also don’t think you can win this bet. If I help you, it helps you win.”  
  
Tony frowned at her. “I don’t like your attitude.”  
  
He returned his focus to the car and the hefty metal pieces in his hands, the oil and grease under his fingernails. He did not think about his phone. About how many emails he was currently unable to check. If Pepper had texted him (and she probably had, possibly to taunt him – Bruce had mentioned earlier with a much-too-amused grin that he’d texted her about the bet). How his stocks were doing, how the world was doing.  
  
Tony made it about five and a half hours before he was seriously trying to come up with loopholes in his and Steve’s agreement.

  
  
~

  
  
Out of pity for the billionaire, the team didn’t watch a movie, but instead opted to play a game that afternoon. That kept Tony distracted for a good couple hours, but then the team broke off to their corners of the Tower (except Bruce whose turn it was to watch Tony). Bruce pulled out a book to read and Tony, who hadn’t _really_ read a book in like a year despite having a library in the Tower, very grudgingly tried to do the same.  
  
He did not think about how much he preferred his Kindle.  
  
“You know it’ll be easier when you’re asleep,” Bruce quipped from the corner under the lamp.  
  
“I don’t normally sleep,” Tony returned, reading the same sentence for the fifth time. “Then again, I also didn’t have any _coffee_ for the last however many hours – and my french press has mysteriously gone missing…”  
  
Bruce kept his features carefully neutral, though there amusement in his eyes. “I know nothing about that. Besides, you can’t use the stove.” He checked his watch. “Darcy's making supper tonight, maybe she'll take pity on you and make you a cup.”

  
~

  
Take pity. _Right._  
  
The Tower's resident mooch was laughing in his face, doubled over and holding her belly. In between gasps for air, she wiped at her eyes, completely immune to his unimpressed glaring. “How did you get him to _agree_ to that?”  
  
That smug smirk took up residence on Steve's face for the umpteenth time that day, and for the umpteenth time, Tony wanted to smack it right off. “Told him he could have my shield for a day.”  
  
“Oh, it's too much.” Darcy grinned, turning back 'round to tend to the stir fry. “And you didn't even let him have any coffee? That's just torture.”  
  
“Right here, guys.” His eyes were mere slits at this point, but for all his (fraying) concentration, their heads still weren't exploding.  
  
“I bet Pepper loves this,” Darcy continued, as if he hadn't said a word.  
  
“She does.” Natasha joined the conversation, sliding onto a stool at the breakfast bar.  
  
Placing her cup of coffee within arm's reach.  
  
Tony's attention was suddenly diverted from the dirty traitors having a conversation in his own kitchen. Because, _caffeine._  
  
An arch of her brow, and Natasha silently dared him. Did he dare go for it? Was the jolt of energy really worth risking the loss of limb? He wouldn't lose the bet, just maybe a finger or two.  
  
He was seriously considering reaching out and snatching it, when Natasha slid her Starkphone right next to her mug.  
  
The woman was pure evil.  
  
With a strangled noise that got stuck somewhere in his throat, Tony stomped away from the kitchen.  
  
He steadfastly ignored the laughter behind him.

 

~

 

Tony paced in his lab. He was nothing if not stubborn. Besides, he was sure as hell not going to let Cap prove his point. Just because Steve was from a time when like, electricity was barely invented, didn’t mean Tony had to know what that felt like.  
  
He raked his hand through his hair with frustration. God, he just needed some _caffeine_. His head was starting to pound without it – he usually was up to about five or six cups by this point on an average day. He just needed a way to make some coffee _without_ using any sort of electronic device.  
  
Tony pursed his lips and looked around his workshop. Well, he _was_ a _genius_ after all…

 

~

  
Clint came down to get Tony for dinner about half an hour later to find the billionaire on the floor of his lab with a freaking _campfire_ built in the middle of Stark’s tile testing pad. By the looks of things, Stark had cannibalized a nice wooden coffee table from the corner of his lab by the couch for firewood, and had a big pyrex beaker of brownish liquid boiling atop a metal rack. A bag of plain coffee grounds was open nearby. Tony meanwhile, was holding a mug, looking really satisfied with himself.  
  
The archer stared and then burst out laughing.  
  
“Hey pal, laugh all you want,” Tony held up his hand. “I’ve got caffeine in my system now, I’m good to go. And I would have used my french press instead of the beaker, but it has _mysteriously disappeared_.” He fixed his glare on the archer.  
  
Clint managed to catch his breath for a moment, and ignored the thinly veiled accusation of thievery. “You realize you could’ve just had a few Cokes from the fridge instead. We agreed you could get things from there if you had to, providing you didn’t mess with the control panel on the door.”  
  
Tony stiffened and pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Yeah. Of course I knew – remembered that.” He shrugged and sipped from his mug. “Also this is delicious. I’m going to have it like this more often.”  
  
Clint didn’t believe him for a second, and was all too eager to inform the others about what Tony had done when they came up for supper. Tony let them laugh as long and loud as they wanted – he was just happy he’d made it this far, frankly (though he would _never_ admit how hard this was turning out to be).

 

~

  
  
Tony wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.  
  
He headed to the Tower’s main gym to burn off some energy, only to realize his workout options were limited to yoga on the mats – his workout equipment came complete with high-tech interfaces that measured heart rate, calorie burn rate, and optionally pretty much any possible thing you would want to _ever_ measure while working out. (Natasha and Pepper had tried to each separately get him into yoga, but Tony wasn’t the kind to sit still, so the activity bored him way too fast.)  
  
So the gym was out. So were his suits, of course, which meant there would be no flying around the city to kill some time before he could force himself to bed. He ventured briefly to the rec room, which was brimming with the latest game systems he wasn’t allowed to touch, and growled with frustration before heading to one of the labs. Which was also decked out with all the latest toys.  
  
Bruce smiled at him behind a set of glowing holo-panels. “How’s it going?”  
  
“Psh, please,” Tony waved him off. “I was just coming to see how _you’re_ doing.”  
  
That knowing smile was still quirking up the corners of Bruce’s lips as he removed his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. “Oh, you know. Just going over some notes.” He bumped the panel with his elbow a little, but enough that it swivelled a few inches, tipping in Tony’s direction.  
  
Tony narrowed his eyes at him, trying to decide if his friend was trying to tempt him into cracking or not. Bruce was perfectly casual and innocent as he replaced his glasses on his face, but there was a mischievous glint in his eye that made Tony even more suspicious.  
  
“Well, have fun with that,” the genius said brusquely, backing up in the direction of the lab door. “I’m going to go… do… something.”

 

~

  
  
That night, despite his (okay, totally _not_ delicious) coffee, Tony decided to head to bed. He wasn’t there very long, however, as he tossed and turned restlessly, before he gave up and decided to try walking around the Tower to see if he could tire himself out.  
  
He somehow wasn’t surprised to find Thor in the living room, as if he’d been waiting for Tony. That was when he found out about all the side bets between the team members about how many hours the genius was going to last – though Thor, Tony was pleased to learn, seemed to be the only one who thought Tony could actually see it through. And that included himself.  
  
(“I do not think it honourable, to take such pleasure in your discomfort.”  
  
“Yeah, well, can't say Cap doesn't have a point.” Admitting it out loud felt oddly refreshing. “Technology's been a part of my identity since I was a kid, it's no wonder I'm a little dependent on it.”)  
  
He settled beside the Norse god on the couch cushions, jangling his leg and pressing his hands to his eyes. Thor glanced at his restless movements, but said nothing. At first it was weird, sitting there in silence, television off, but then Tony found himself too tired to try and fill it up with words. He was emotionally drained, strung out, and keyed up, all at once. It was exhausting.  
  
Never let it be said that Tony Stark couldn't appreciate a quiet moment. It was nice, being able to let his guard down around Thor. (And that was saying something, when you're talking about an alien prince who defied so much of what Tony used to believe.) But he was apparently the only one in the building not trying to coerce him into a lapse and make him lose the bet.  
  
Suddenly, the last thirteen hours of the bet didn't feel like such an eternity.  
  
“Your stars are beautiful here, Tony.” Thor's voice was gentle, and the way he pronounced his name was still oddly formal but warm, like the way he said the other team members’ names. It was different than how he talked to and about others, Tony was beginning to realize.  
  
“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied.  
  
“Come,” said Thor, rising from the couch. He beckoned Tony to follow.  
  
They took the stairs to the roof (since Tony’s elevators counted as tech too). The pair settled onto two of the various chairs scattered around up there, and though the city’s glare was too bright to make out much of anything in the sky aside from the occasional plane and satellite, Tony still felt himself relax. The general white noise of the city around him was soothing, and Thor didn’t seem fussed about having a conversation; he was content to merely sit with his friend. It was pleasantly warm out too, the warmth from a sticky hot summer’s day still lingering even this many hours after dark.  
  
At some point, Tony drifted off, though he couldn’t say when, nor when the blanket was laid on him or by who.

 

~

  
  
He woke up with the dawn, and for a moment was blearily confused as to why the hell he was outside, on a lounge chair, on the roof of the Tower. Then he saw Steve relaxing beside him quietly munching on a bowl of fruit.  
  
“Morning,” Steve said. “I have to say I am honestly impressed. I didn’t think you would make it this long.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Tony sat up and stretched. “Joke’s gonna be on you pal, ‘cause I only have like four more hours to go. I can practically taste victory.”  
  
Steve chuckled. “You’re doing good, I’ll admit, but four hours is still four hours.”  
  
Tony scoffed as he scooped up the blanket. “Please, I got this.”

 

~

  
  
His confidence, however, slid from pretty high to only moderate by the time he got back to the common level after getting ready for the day (and skipping a shower because of the flashy waterproof control panel he was beta-testing in his personal shower. The doors to the team’s private bathrooms containing non-tech showers were mysteriously all locked when Tony attempted to borrow one of theirs).  
  
Clint was casually leaning against the wall in the corridor outside Tony’s bedroom, StarkPad in hand, when the billionaire emerged from his bedroom.  
  
“Interesting,” said Clint.  
  
Tony couldn’t help himself and glanced over at the archer, before continuing on his way.  
  
Clint followed, though remained apparently engrossed in whatever he was reading on the tablet.  
  
“Mmm, oh wow…” he mumbled. “I can’t believe it…”  
  
Tony clenched his jaw.  
  
“Huh, the things they can do nowadays,” Clint said softly to himself – in a volume _totally_ meant for Tony to hear.  
  
The billionaire whirled. “Okay, what? What is it?”  
  
“Oh, it’s just this news story on some robotic advancements. Apparently NASA has made a breakthrough in – ”  
  
Tony clapped his hands over his ears both to stop himself from grabbing the tablet out of the archer’s hands, and to block out the sound of his voice. The bastard _knew_ how much Tony loved reading about the latest thing in the electronic and scientific world!  
  
“Walk away, Barton!” Tony shouted heatedly. “Walk away or the next repulsor test I do will be on your _favorite bow!_ ”  
  
“All right, all right,” Clint shook his head and _tut-tut_ ed. He walked away, whistling an unfairly happy tune, barely refraining from the laughter obviously trying to break past his lips.  
  
Tony pictured his so-called-friend’s head bursting into flames, before the billionaire huffed and continued on to the kitchen, seeking something to fill his growling stomach.

 

~

  
  
Except that task proved to be way more difficult than it should’ve been, and Tony’s confidence in his ability to make it through this bet went from middling to pretty low in a hurry.  
  
He wanted a smoothie with his breakfast, but couldn’t use the blender. He wanted something hot, but couldn’t cook with the stove (unless he could cannibalize more wood for another campfire in the lab), so he was stuck with leftovers. And those, he would have to enjoy cold, because he couldn’t use the microwave. Or there was cereal, but that was _really_ a last resort.  
  
He _just_ about reached for his holograph screen to check the news as usual and to distract himself from his breakfast woes, and then slammed his hand on the counter with a growl. He _couldn’t_ check the news as usual – not if he wanted to win this damn bet.  
  
And _oh_ , he wanted to win. Not only on competitive principal (Tony Stark didn’t lose) but because the idea that Cap would actually let him throw around his shield was too good to pass up. He’d never let anyone take it for a proper spin before, and he knew how badly Tony wanted to try it out. Which was, of course, _exactly_ how Tony got himself into this situation in the first place.  
  
Plus, there would be the added bonus of the look on Steve’s face while Tony took his baby for a spin.  
  
He thumped his elbows onto the counter and buried his face in his hands. Three hours. _Just three hours._  
  
Tony looked up as Natasha sauntered into the kitchen. She had a headphone in her right ear, cord attached to an iPod on her belt, a Stark Phone in one hand, and a smoothie in the other.  
  
He grit his teeth and fought the urge to snatch that phone out of her fingers.  
  
She pursed her lips as she glanced down at the phone in her hand, then frowned, her face an expert mask of slight concern and irritation. “Hmm.”  
  
“What?” he asked.  
  
“This thing… isn’t working right…” Natasha jabbed at the screen with her thumb, her apparent annoyance with the object growing as a small crease appeared between her eyebrows.  
  
“Here, let me take a look.” Tony came around the counter and reached for the phone – out of routine, out of habit, out of always being the tech genius in the room. His fingers brushed the phone’s gleaming surface before he remembered himself and recoiled like the thing in Natasha’s hand was red hot.  
  
Her eyes widened only slightly, the perfect picture of innocence.  
  
“You!” he shouted and pointed an accusing finger at her chest. “Saboteur! Traitor!”  
  
The corner of Natasha’s lips quirked sideways. “That was almost too easy.”  
  
Cursing under his breath, he backed away and circled back around the kitchen island to put some distance between himself and the dirty, cheating seductress before him.  
  
She slid onto the stool on the other side of the island from him and set the phone down between them. The slightest tilt of her eyebrow _dared_ him to reach out and grab it.  
  
Tony could feel his fingers buzzing. He never could back down from a dare. Damn her, she knew exactly how to tempt him. He pressed his lips together tight and shook his head – crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back for good measure.  
  
“I have fifty bucks riding on you caving, Stark. And you _will_ cave.” She smiled at him – a small, stunningly dangerous smile. “I’m just helping along the process.”  
  
Tony balked and sputtered but was unable to come up with a suitable response. With an evil wink, Natasha hopped off the stool and exited the kitchen whistling softly, same as her devilish partner moments earlier. She left the phone on the counter, and it sat there shining and calling to him like a siren in an old Greek myth.  
  
If the Black Widow was against him (and Hawkeye, and possibly Bruce as well), Tony wagered he had a snowball’s chance in Hell of succeeding. This thought alone made him reach for the phone, but he pulled back with an irritable groan. No, he could do this. He was Tony freaking Stark, and he had conquered far worse. He _could_ do this.  
  
Could he?

 

~

  
  
Two and three-quarters of an hour later, the other team members found Tony in the living room, staring at the phone which was now on the coffee table. He wasn’t touching it, simply watching it like it was an intense movie. Steve opened his mouth to question the scene before him, when Tony held up a finger, never taking his eyes off the phone (that sleek, plastic, and metal wonder that put all the information in the world at his fingertips).  
  
“You never said I couldn't _look_ at tech.”  
  
Steve suppressed a chuckle. “I didn’t, it’s true. You haven’t used it?”  
  
Tony gave his head a slight shake. _Three more minutes, three more minutes…_  
  
“Jarvis?” began Bruce, asking the AI for confirmation of Tony’s statement.  
  
 _“Sir, Mr. Stark has not used the device in question, nor any electronic or technological device in the whole of the Tower during the entirety of the 24 hours set down by Captain Rogers,”_ Jarvis reported. _“He has upheld his end of the bargain most admirably, if I might so say, even refraining entirely from speaking to me.”_  
  
Bruce nodded and exchanged satisfied looks with Steve, who consulted his watch. The team began a countdown, and Tony felt his stomach tie up in excited knots, anticipating the moment he would get to fling around Steve’s shield. (And check his email and his stocks and his news websites and _dear lord_ use his blender and Jarvis again, and his _shower_ and his _coffee machine_ …)  
  
Steve held up his hand. “And, three… two… one!”  
  
Tony _barely_ stopped himself from slumping deep into the couch with relief. The deadline of the bet had passed, and Tony Stark had done it: he’d gone a full 24 hours without using _any_ sort of tech.  
  
Natasha lifted her chin and raised a grudging eyebrow. The team each dug into their pockets for their wallets and began exchanging wads of cash. Clint passed a large number of bills to the Asgardian, his face pinched as he lost his side-bet, while Thor smiled smugly. Natasha pursed her lips slightly in defeat and traded money with Bruce and Steve before handing most of it back to Thor. Part of Tony wanted to know what exactly all the side-bets were, but then he decided he was probably better off not knowing.  
  
Thor grinned appreciatively. “Well done, my friend.”  
  
“I have to say, I honestly didn’t think you could do it,” admitted Steve.  
  
 _Neither did I_ , thought Tony wryly. Aloud, he made a scoffing noise. “Like it was hard.”  
  
Realizing the torture was _finally_ at an end, the genius jumped up from the couch. He wanted nothing more than to rush down to his lab and play with his toys, greet Jarvis, insult Dummy, and run his hands through some holograms or over something smooth and electronic. For the sake of appearances, he used the last of his remaining will power and did not immediately snatch up the phone he’d been watching (but it was a near thing).  
  
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Tony sniffed. He frowned as his team conferred with each other in mumbles before him, still trading wads of cash. “Hey, I don’t appreciate _this,_ ” he added, waving his hand at them.  
  
“Like you would’ve been any different if it’d been one of us,” Clint said with a chuckle.  
  
Tony opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it, and instead tried the guilt angle. “But you’re my _team!_ And none of you thought I could do it! I’m _very_ hurt.” He put a hand to his chest, then said, “Except you, big guy.” He pointed to Thor, the only one who had apparently believed he could go all the way.  
  
“Stop being dramatic,” said Natasha with a roll of her eyes.  
  
Tony glared at her. “And _you_. You… I have nothing to say to you.”  
  
The team laughed, and Natasha smirked, her eyes dancing with amusement.  
  
“Well, a promise is a promise,” said Steve, drawing Tony’s attention immediately. The genius felt excitement and anticipation flood his chest. “Let’s go get my shield. You earned it.”  
  
Tony let out a _whoop_ of glee, and raced after the captain. “See, I told you I could do it.”  
  
As he followed Steve to retrieve the shield, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about how thankful he was that Rogers didn’t make the bet go a single minute longer.  
  
“Here,” said Steve, handing over the precious shield. “You _earned_ it, Tony,” he repeated, adorably proud of his friend, if also rather anxious that his most prized possession was about to be in Tony’s hands for 24 hours.  
  
The billionaire’s fingers closed around the cool metal almost reverently and his grin grew even wider. Especially because Steve was visibly a little worried, and was possibly regretting making _this_ Tony’s reward for holding out.  
  
“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with this,” said Tony. He grasped the shield tightly.  
  
(And he silently vowed to _never_ agree the same bet _ever_ again.)  
  
 **-end-**


End file.
